


One Last Dream

by gearheart94



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
Genre: All aboard the Feels train, Closure, Feels, Freddy - Freeform, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearheart94/pseuds/gearheart94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddy notices something is off. So he goes to investigate.</p><p>He definitely wasn't expecting anyone to be here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Dream

Freddy noticed something was off.

 

He could feel it. The sensation was everywhere. It was almost like the boiler room had shuddered from an invisible impact, and he didn't know what it was but it was _something._ Like a feeling. An emotion. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, he had felt it once upon a time, but it was hard to grasp. Picking up his glove and fedora, he went off to investigate.

Everything sagged. It was strange, off-putting. Nobody should be here. He hadn't pulled anyone in. He rounded a corner. Maybe the furnace was broken. It had to be. The blades made a _shnk shnk_ noise as he fiddled with them. Doubled as a scare tactic. If there was an intruder, they would know his presence. They would regret coming here. He sniffed the air, and sneered. Someone _was_ here. He turned another corner. The feeling grew stronger. That sensation... it pulled at his chest. He could remember it. But not quite.

Another corner. Jump down onto another catwalk. Running his blades along the railing so it made that eerie _screeeeeeeeing_ noise that he knew would bend any man to fear. The boiler room continued to sag. Everything was slowing down, almost. The angry, red atmosphere began to subside the further he walked. He was getting closer, and that sensation was seriously starting to bother him. He wasn't angry. He wasn't bloodthirsty. What the hell was going on?

He decided to test the waters. "One, two, Freddy's comin for you...." He called out, voice almost cracking. The blades made that _screeeeing_   noise again and he paused. Strained to hear something. Anything.

_cough._

It was a dry, raspy cough. Sounded like someone hadn't had a drink in a while. Freddy turned the last corner, and came face to face with the intruder of the Nightmare World.

The old man was on the floor, leaning up against a boiler. Everything around him was blue and fuzzed out, like an old picture. But what shocked him the most was that behind the boiler he was up against, was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was like someone had simply wiped out the rest of the room. He went to take a step forward, but retreated when the man began to cough again. It wasn't hard to see that he was having a hard time breathing.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" Freddy kneeled down and extended his blades, fedora lowered so he looked as menacing as possible. The old man looked up at him, and smiled. "Isn't that the question of the day?" Once again, the feeling began to pull at his chest. God dammit, what was going on? "My greatest creation," the man wheezed. "I wouldn't have had the life that I did without you." "Greatest creation? I don't know what you're talking about." The blades shot forward for the killing blow-

And passed right through the man. Freddy gaped. How was this possible??? He couldn't be dead already! Old Man chuckled, and exploded into another fit of hacking coughs. "You can't kill that who has created you. Freddy Krueger. The Springwood Slasher. The Dream Demon. I know you, because I made you." The burnt man could do nothing else but simply stare. No one had remembered him for a very long time. Springwood had been wiped off the map 12 years ago. How could this be? And what did he mean, "creation?" "Do forgive me for not giving my name. It's hard to think when you're crossing over. Call me Wes." This guy was clearly off his rocker. Freddy decided to entertain him, since he was "already dead." "Alright, _Wes._ Why are you here? And what the hell have you done to my domain?" Wes looked around, and shrugged. "I can't say I know what I've done to the boiler room. It shouldn't be like this. But then again... it is connected to you. It feels what you feel." "Psh, don't get all mushy on me. I don't feel shit." Wes chuckled again. "If you say so. I'm simply here to say goodbye." A pause. "Goodbye?" "Yes, goodbye. My time is up, Freddy."

Another pause. This was getting awkward. Shifting again, Wes coughed. This time a little blood came up, staining his lower lip. Normally Freddy would have gotten a kick out of seeing something like this, but the feeling was still pulling at his chest. Sitting on the ground in front of the old man, he sniffed. "Why should I care?" "Because you are my greatest creation. I wouldn't have lived my life the way I did without you. I need you to understand that people still believe in you. Fear you." "Why the fuck do you keep calling me that? I'm nobody's creation." "I wrote you into existence years ago," Wes wheezed. "I can only hope that you'll continue to inspire those who have seen your story." Freddy fiddled with one of the blades on his glove. "So you're saying people are still afraid?" The corners of the old man's mouth curled up into a strange smile. "There will always be fear." He placed a hand over his heart, and looked up. "Well, it seems as though my time has come. Brain cancer is quite a bitch, and I can't fight it anymore." The pulling sensation was now tearing away at Freddy's chest. He had no clue who this man was, but he didn't want him to leave. "Can't you just stay? The Dreamscape isn't so bad once you get used to it." "Afraid not, my boy. I'm destined." Wes was beginning to fade, quite literally. His hands were disappearing, as if someone were erasing him away. "Just remember this. Fear will always be there. As long as there is fear, you have power. Give them all something to be afraid of." And with those words, the old man simply vanished.

Freddy sat on the floor for a few moments, staring at the spot where Wes had sat. The entire area was still blurry and a deep blue color. It seemed like it was permanent, and he simply didn't have the anger to try and fix it. Standing up and adjusting his hat, he turned and looked back one more time. He finally recognized the pulling feeling in his chest. He _had_ felt it before. A long time ago. When Maggie was taken from him. When the kids at school teased him and threw things at his back. It was a feeling he never really thought he could ever feel again, and for a total stranger. The boiler room seemed to cry as Freddy Krueger accepted the sadness that was eating away at him.

For the first time in what seemed like eternity, the Dream Demon cried.

**Author's Note:**

> After finding out the recent passing of Wes Craven, I decided to write something in his honor.  
> He was a creative genius, and will be missed by so many.
> 
> Rest in Peace.


End file.
